Much pre-menstrual ranting

Greetings minions.  Tonight I am pre-menstrual in the extreme.  I am inordinately irritated by things that wouldn’t bother a sane person on a sane day.  Like the fact that neither Wikipedia nor Wiktionary have an IPA transcription of the pronunciation of a word I looked up.  No, indeed.  Instead, they have a sound file in an odd format that Media Player doesn’t recognise.  So you have to download software to play it.  Which takes ages.  And still doesn’t work.  Why not just have a transcription?  It’s only seven phonemes long!  I’d been talking with someone about Asperger’s Syndrome and I just want to know if it’s pronounced with a ‘g’ or a ‘j’.  So then I looked up another site and it just had a copy of the Wiki text.  Normally all this would not bother me so much.  Or at least so I like to think. 

I can’t believe I just spent a whole paragraph ranting about Wikipedia.  I’ve also spent over a month trying to source a spare part for my water filter.  Seeing as no-one in Sydney seems capable of fixing a simple 3-stage RO, it seems I will have to source it from Adelaide or somewhere in Tasmania.  Which is entirely reasonable, I mean, Sydney is only the largest city in the country, with only 5 million or so people, so how can I expect to get repairs on my water filter in such a sleepy little one-horse town? 

You know, having enough energy to get things done is a wonderful thing if you have things to do.  But when it’s after midnight, the shops are shut, you can’t sleep and you’re too pissed off to concentrate on anything, I’m tempted to say it’s a curse.  It’s also rather cold in here.  Not much over 18C (65F).  Why don’t I turn the heater on, you ask?  Because I’m trying to see if I can get through autumn without turning it on.  Nine days to go.  Why, you ask?  Well no, you don’t ask, because you see that the woman is clearly not rational and that it’s pointless trying to reason with her. 

Last night I dreamt I was in Byron again, in a clear, calm, warm ocean.  Oceans are usually wild and destructive in my dreams, but not last night.  I wanted so dearly to move there permanently.  God, everything seems so disjointed, so meaningless.  So much tilting at windmills.  Pronunciation, water filters, wishful dreams.  Chores, illness, poverty.  Loneliness, cellulite, boredom, self-doubt.  Television, email, television.  Input: mass media.  Output: a dreary, solitary life, affecting no-one. 

Good god, melancholy is so much more pleasant than undirected rage.